


let there be light (let me be alright)

by wheezykaspbraks



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Insomnia, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, just boys in love!!!, just in case!! richie isn't doin too great but sleep deprivation will do that to you, richie loving his boyfriend!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 02:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21067208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheezykaspbraks/pseuds/wheezykaspbraks
Summary: He thinks of Eddie holding his hands and swinging him around the too-small kitchen with boxes still unpacked, singingthat we may fall in love, every time we open up our eyesin his sweet baby-bird voice with the midday sun turning his hair to strands of gold; Eddie croonswe are infinite as the universe we hold insideand Richie thinks, not for the first time and definitely not for the last, that he’s never loved someone the way that he loves this boy.





	let there be light (let me be alright)

**Author's Note:**

> for my baby ♡

Eddie’s still in bed when Richie gets home. The world is fast asleep outside their little apartment, the kind of quiet it only ever gets in the hours just before the sun rises. It makes him think of Eddie, a little bit, a sleepy head rising to brighten up the day. For now, though, it’s 3am and he fumbles with his shoes in the doorway, because Eddie always gets this grumpy look on his face when Richie wears his shoes into their apartment, and Richie already knows that he’s going to be too tired in the morning to listen to Eddie’s fretting over what he could be tracking into their place, even if he  _ does _ look cute as anything with that anxious little furrow between his brows. 

Spaghetti purrs and winds around his feet as he closes the door behind himself. He carries his shoes in one hand and crouches down the pet her with the other, smiling when she presses her face to his hand before flopping onto the carpet with a pitiful meow for affection that he quickly succumbs to. He rubs at her belly and she stretches with a pleased rumble that he feels through his hand, up his arm, deep in his own chest like a swarm of hummingbirds have taken shelter on the rungs of his ribs. She slinks off towards the kitchen when he heads for the bedroom, gentle little pitter-patter footfalls that remind him so much of his boyfriend.

Their bed is a mess of too-many-pillows and piled up blankets, because Eddie gets cold easily even in the summer and likes to be wrapped up like a burrito when he sleeps, even if that means that Richie is left on the outside of said burrito with his arms and legs wrapped around the vague shape of his boyfriend. Richie’s only half sure that Eddie’s even in there somewhere when he sees a socked foot peeping out from under the covers.

It’s the tail-end of spring, now, the days are just starting to get properly cold. Eddie’s cheeks go pink in the summer from the heat and even pinker in the cold, and it always sends Richie a little dizzy with just how cute he looks, like he’s made of sugar or something just as tooth-achingly sweet.

Mike had set up the fairy lights strung up around the room back when Eddie and Richie first moved into the apartment, as the tallest of their group, laughing delightedly at Eddie rising onto his tippy-toes to try and help as best he could. Bill had taken a few photos of them on his old polaroid, although he kept getting distracted pulling Bev and Ben in for kisses. Richie sat on the floor at Bill’s feet unpacking their boxes, while Stan sorted out the books that had been haphazardly shoved onto the shelf in the corner of the room. There are countless polaroids of that day around the apartment, blurry snaps of Ben laughing as he’s tugged into Bill’s lap, Stan squinting at the spine of a book consideringly, Eddie kitty-cat stretched out as tall as he can go with his arms above his head, holding a line of lights in place while Mike pokes at his stomach and sides to test his resolve.

Those lights are just bright enough to cast a soft yellow glow around the room and for a moment, just a moment, as he changes into his comfiest shirt and sweats, Richie feels a bone-deep exhaustion hollow out his chest. It’s gone before his head hits the pillow.

Richie lays on his back and stares at the faded-out stars stuck onto the ceiling.

This happens most nights; they head to bed together, Eddie curled up in his arms or wrapped around his back, fast asleep long before their phones read midnight. Richie spends an hour or so like that before he slips from the bed, presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek when he makes a confused noise and blearily reaches for him, soothes him back to sleep before pulling on his shoes and slipping outside. Some nights it rains and others it’s clear, and either way he walks and walks and walks until he inevitably ends up back at their doorstep with vague memories of chain smoking on a park bench or wandering the aisles of a gas station or throwing back way too many energy drinks in an empty parking lot.

It’s been two  — almost three  days since he last slept and he’s tired, he’s so very tired, but in the kind of way where he doesn’t entirely remember what it’s like to  _ not _ be tired. His insomnia had crept in slowly, a sickly spreading thing that makes him think of those old-fashioned horror movies with killer vines enveloping small towns. He laughs to himself, just a little; Tozier Town, being smothered by the crippling inability to fall asleep and stay asleep for more than an hour at a time.

The Eddie-shape shifts and emits a sleepy sound, and Richie makes little  _ shh shh  _ noises as he shuffles in under the covers to wrap himself around Eddie’s back, pressing apologetic kisses to his bare freckled shoulders. 

Richie nuzzles at the nape of his neck, soft strands sun-bleached a few shades lighter than the rest of his hair back there. He smells a little like citrus, but mostly just like summers with grass-stained knees and brightly colored bandaids and daisy chains. Eddie’s always held a little bit of summer whirlwinds within himself, in bright eyes and pink-flushed cheeks and freckled thighs and the way that he’s always moving, moving, moving, light and fluttery on his toes like an angel ready to take flight, or maybe one of those pretty birds that Stan likes so much.

Sometimes it scares Richie, just a bit, the way that Eddie always seems ready to  _ go _ . Eddie runs laps around the block in teensy-tiny little shorts and calf-high socks, skates ‘round the apartment in his sparkly light-up rollerskates, drums his fingers and taps his feet and looks ready to vibrate out of his skin when he has to sit still.

Richie is so exhausted all the time, it’s all he can do to sit back and watch Eddie take on the world with a glint in his pretty brown eyes, like he’s daring anyone to stop him from being everything he could ever want to be. Richie knows that he looks crappy, especially in comparison to Eddie Kaspbrak; his hair always hangs too-long in his eyes and frizzes out embarrassingly, he breaks out way too easily, the skin under his eyes are stained the color of violet petals, his teeth are still kinda crooked despite years of braces, he’s forgetful and never pays attention when he’s meant to, he always feels like he’s a little lost at sea, he’s much too tall and too loud and too  _ Richie _ .

And still Eddie loves him, reminds him every morning between forget-me-not kisses pressed to every inch of his face, till Richie giggles and pushes him away before changing his mind and tugging him back in for a proper kiss that makes his head go a little fuzzy around the edges when Eddie licks into his mouth all sweet. Richie always thinks, a little deliriously, that maybe the press of Eddie’s fingers against his chest, or his hips or his thighs or his cheeks, could be enough to bring him back to the land of the living, where he’ll be able to see the world the way that his boyfriend does, where he’ll be able to chase the rising sun the way that Eddie does every morning.

And then Eddie pulls away, or he does, or both of them, and Richie smiles even as he remembers that he’s just not built the way that Eddie is. He’s built for late night and shaky hands and binge watching creepy youtube videos at 3am while the love of his life sleeps soundly beside him.

When Eddie looks at him with his pretty mouth curved into a sweet little smile, flutters eyelashes like a set of delicate butterfly wings against petal-pink cheeks, whispers, “I love you, Rich.” into the space between them, he thinks that he doesn't mind being Richie Tozier quite so much, if Richie Tozier is someone that Eddie Kaspbrak thinks is worth loving.

He thinks of Eddie holding his hands and swinging him around the too-small kitchen with boxes still unpacked, singing  _ that we may fall in love, every time we open up our eyes _ in his sweet baby-bird voice with the midday sun turning his hair to strands of gold; Eddie croons  _ we are infinite as the universe we hold inside  _ and Richie thinks, not for the first time and definitely not for the last, that he’s never loved someone the way that he loves this boy. 

When the darkness of their room gives way to soft shadows, Eddie stirs in his arms and Richie watches adoringly as he shuffles around in his arms.

Eddie waves a tired hand at Richie’s face when he peeks open sleepy eyes, grumbling, trying halfheartedly to push him away. He’s scowling blearily and his cheeks are pink and the flush spreads to the tips of his ears and down his chest, a full-body blusher through and through, Richie loves him  _ so much _ .

He says so, with a loud smacking  _ mwah!  _ against the tip of his nose, and Eddie huffs, “jerk.” even as he shuffles in closer, presses his face into his shoulder and jabs at him with that cute pointy chin of his. Richie retaliates by weaving his fingers into kitten-soft hair, tugging at it just barely hard enough to sting. Instead of crawling out of bed to pull on his tiny running shorts and tug cute socks up around his calves, he snuggles further into the curve of Riche’s shoulder. Richie kisses vaguely at his temple, pressing a yawn into his hair.

In the light of day, he again thinks of Eddie dancing around their apartment, singing along to their speakers,  _ let there be light, let there be light, let me be alright,  _ and thinks that maybe everything will be okay.

He doesn’t quite manage to fall asleep, but he closes his eyes and knows that he’s never more comfortable than with the love of his life wrapped up in his arms.


End file.
